


things you said

by doorwaytoparadise



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, Post-Zurich angst, it varies between fluff and angst, tumblr ficlets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3529442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doorwaytoparadise/pseuds/doorwaytoparadise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few ficlets prompted to me on tumblr. All M/D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. things you said when you thought i was asleep

The ghost of a breath fluttered against his cheek, but Douglas made no indication of noticing, still half-asleep in the pre-dawn darkness. His head was tucked into Martin's shoulder, one arm slung over the other man's chest, and their legs tangled beneath the sheets. One of Martin's hands came up to card through Douglas' hair, a content hum rumbling in his chest, and Douglas held himself still, unwilling to disturb the moment.  
Another breath and Martin pressed a light kiss to his forehead, simply resting there for a moment. Such a small gesture, yet Douglas felt an overwhelming rush of affection for the smaller man beside him.

“Oh, Douglas.” A soft whisper, exhaled out into the room, yet bearing more weight than two words had any right to do.

“I don't think I'll ever be able to find the words to tell you just how much I love you.”

Douglas focused all of his willpower on not reacting to that bombshell of a statement. They had been in a relationship for a while now, and some part of both of them knew, but neither had said the words, and Douglas had honestly been afraid of doing so. To hear such an honest, heartfelt confession, bared to the emptiness of this cheap hotel room, left Douglas feeling breathless where he lay. 

Martin shifted slightly, wrapping his arms around Douglas, and settling back down to catch what little sleep he still could. Only once Douglas was sure Martin was asleep did he dare open his eyes. He stared at his captain, taking in the features he had come to love, and sighed.

“Three failed marriages and a slew of partners and I have never loved anyone like I do you. You and I are just a pair of lovestruck idiots, aren't we?”

Douglas murmured the words into the small patch of empty space between them, smiling softly, before closing his eyes to join Martin in sleep, completely missing the answering smile on Martin's face.


	2. things you said that made me feel like shit

“Well, I'm just a mediocre pilot who's going nowhere, least of all up!”

“Martin! Now, you know that's not true. Why are you so hard on yourself?”

“That's what you said.”

“What?”

“You said that, when we first started working together at MJN. That's what you said to me. “You're a mediocre pilot who's going nowhere, least of all up.”!”

“I-” Douglas swallows past the lump in his throat.

“I assure you Martin it was said entirely out of spite and ignorance. It's not true in the slightest and I knew that even back then. I sincerely regret having ever said that and I apologize for whatever impact my words may have had.”

Martin's jaw clenched, his eyes darting away from Douglas. He inhaled.

“No-no, it's fine. It's fine. Fine, fine! It's all fine.”

“You repeat yourself when you lie, remember? And it's obviously not fine if it's still on your mind now, some 5 years later.”

Martin turned back to Douglas, an unreadable expression crossing his face. Douglas felt terrible for ever having planted so much doubt in Martin's mind. He had had no idea that the words would stick with the other man, and winced at the realization that he was the sole cause for Martin's hurt this time. He immediately hastened to give further reassurance.

“Martin. Martin, you know I think the world of you, don't you?”

Martin closed his eyes, not wanting to see the guilt on Douglas' face.

“Right. Right, yes, I-I know.”

The words came out far too forced, but neither man was willing to mention it.


	3. things you said with too many miles between us

The distance stretches between them, an unconquerable barrier, leaving them separated, alone, one half of a whole. They had never considered themselves an essential part of a single entity before they were too far apart to fix it, and too long had passed to say anything.

Douglas, for all that he basked in his promotion to captain, could not ignore the wrenching in his gut, clawing at his insides like a wounded animal. The ache had dulled as time passed, until it became a low, constant throbbing, reduced to background noise, but always present. He knew what it was, though he hadn’t realized at first. The lack of his co-pilot of five years was a needle-thin prickling, just under his skin, made more prominent every time he glanced down and saw the four stripes on his sleeve. Herc was alright, as far as co-pilots went, but the flight deck still felt different, a subtle shift that left Douglas feeling like he was looking at a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit together. The gaping sense of loss had been near overwhelming in those first few flights, though he hadn’t been able to acknowledge to himself just why that was. These days though, he wonders at what his old captain is up to, if he feels the same or if he even thinks about them( _him_ ) at all. With a princess and a respectable airline as his employer, Douglas doesn’t think so. “ _Not me, never me._ ” He thinks. Not an old, washed-up, thrice divorced, ex-alcoholic of a man, who is helpless to do more than pine in the shadow of Martin spreading his wings.

-

Martin loved his new job, really he did, it was just, there was something missing, and that nagging sensation kept him from truly becoming comfortable in the flight decks he spent his time in these days. Swiss Air was wonderful, the aircraft he got to fly were exciting, and the steady income was a vast improvement to his previous lifestyle. He just missed the people. Theresa, lovely as she was, hadn’t been what he needed, and they both knew it, splitting in a mutual decision, and remaining friends. Everything would be fine, perfectly fine, if there wasn’t a dull sense of having lost something precious lurking in the back of his mind, and right down to his core. The first days, weeks, months, pass with a near unbearable clenching in his gut, and he fights to ignore it, telling himself that everything is better now and he has no reason to feel an aching in his chest. The first year passed and his thoughts had turned to his old first officer, and the tears had sprung to his eyes in realization. “ _Not me, never me._ ” He thinks. Not a nervous, stuttering, barely capable pilot. He was an idiot, a head-over-heels, pathetic idiot, and a man like Douglas, clever, skilled, and charming, would never look at Martin the way he so desperately wanted him to.

=

Three years pass in a blur, and Martin is captain again, his confidence and skill having grown in leaps and bounds, straight to a promotion, and his own young first officer to take under his wing. OJS is still flying steady, which he knows from frequent contact with mostly Arthur, but occasionally Douglas, and a handful of correspondences with Carolyn. He always feels a pang when he thinks of the family that helped him soar, and there’s still a pit of sadness lingering in his heart over Douglas, but he’s…well, not truly happy, per se, but content. There are days where the ‘what-might-have-been’s make him want to cry, but he’s learned to live without and has come to know exactly how to quiet the yearning.

-

Three years pass in a blur, and Douglas is sailing smoothly, just fine, having gotten used to Herc in the seat beside him, and resigned himself to always feeling like a part of him was missing. Martin is doing fine, a captain again, and properly this time, which is great, really. He just can’t help but wish sometimes, that Martin was _his_ captain again. He’s…content, with how things are, but he knows it could be better. There’s the ever-present wishing that has, by now, made itself at home in his heart, and he’s learned to pay it no mind, holding it inside him and never letting it out, no matter how much it hurts.

=

Two souls, two hearts, two people in mourning for the almost they had had. Two rooms across the globe, and for just one brief moment in time, there is a meeting of fate, a syncing of events, as both men turn the radio on.

A song plays, slow and soft and melancholy, flicked on in the middle of the chorus. The singer’s voice filters into empty air.

“ _…-most, almost is never enough  
So close to being in love  
If I would have known that you wanted me  
The way I wanted you  
Then maybe we wouldn’t be two worlds apart  
But right here in each other’s arms_

_And we almost, we almost knew what love was_  
But almost is never enough-”

Both radios cut off immediately, one unplugged in a rush of panicked grief, brought about by how close to home it hits, the other thrown violently against the wall, in a wave of anger and heartbreak.

Two souls, two hearts, two people that break just a little bit more.


	4. things you said with no space between us

The local university’s psychology department is conducting a social experiment, the flyer reads, and they need volunteers. It’s a paid thing, and Martin has always been the kind of person to take opportunities when they arise. He signs up for the event, held later that week, and makes a note to remind himself, before continuing on with his current removals job.

When the day arrives, he heads out to the campus and listens through the explanation of the experiment. They will be paired with a stranger, and will sit down at a table and talk with them for 30 minutes, during which neither of them are allowed to lie (They add here that no one but the two participants will hear what is said, to protect their privacy). After, for 4 minutes, they will stare into each other’s eyes. They are testing a theory or something about people falling in love, and Martin accepts that easily enough, though he doubts he’ll be falling in love here, as he kind of maybe doesn’t really but totally absolutely already has someone he’s in love with.

When it comes to be his turn, he sits down at the table, and waits to see who will sit across from him. Nothing could have quite prepared him for seeing Douglas come to stand at the other chair, looking down at him, equally surprised. They both stare, startled, before Douglas seems to shake himself and sits down. Martin swallows hard, because he’s always been rubbish at hiding his feelings, and now with only the truth to be said between them, he feels nervous. Nervous because 30 minutes hadn’t seemed so bad with a stranger, but with Douglas he knows it will be an eternity. An eternity to slip up and blurt out his feelings and embarrass himself so he can never look the older man in the eye again. He’s always had terrible luck, but this is taking the cake.

The time begins and Martin goes to open his mouth, to start, because he’s always worn his heart on his sleeve and spilling personal details to Douglas is something he does anyway. And he knows Douglas, knows how secretive the man is, and wants to give him a chance to sort out what he wants to share with a man he’ll be seeing quite often after this. As he inhales, mind flickering through a dozen things to say, Douglas calmly starts talking.

Maybe it’s because he knows no one but Martin is listening now, or he’s feeling particularly indulgent today, or its some other complicated ulterior motive, but Martin finds himself enraptured as Douglas spins a tale of troubled childhood, pressured teenage years, wild university days, and the struggles of a man who ruins every good thing he gains. Douglas is calm and soft and gentle in a way that Martin has never really seen before, and for once, the older man won’t meet his eyes. He watches his friend halt, as he admits to flaws he would never otherwise acknowledge, and certainly not to Martin. As he inhales, a little shakily, Martin clears his throat. When Douglas looks up at him, he smiles, small but sincere, and holding no judgment, and he tilts his head, trying to communicate how much it meant to him that Douglas was willing to share such personal details. Douglas, for his part, gives a rueful smile, seeing his feelings clear in his face, because they’re both realizing that if there was anyone he was going to willingly spill his life, his troubles, his heart to, it would be only ever be this man sitting across the small table from him.

The allotted 30 minutes is only halfway over, so Martin takes the show of trust, of closeness, that Douglas has presented him, and begins to return the favor. An equally troubled childhood, crazy rebellious teenage years, stressing his way through his higher education, and facing the multiple failures of trying to do the one thing he wanted more than anything. Martin stutters through his story, flushing occasionally, but making it through to the end without losing coherency. He pauses to breathe, and feels Douglas’ eyes on him. It’s exhausting, he thinks, this sharing business, but its almost therapeutic, and he feels like he can breathe easier, and looking at Douglas, he can see he feels the same.

A glance at the clock shows a good ten minutes left, and Martin grins as he suddenly gets an idea. Leaning forward over the table, he beckons Douglas to do the same, until there’s no space between them. The other man raises his eyebrow in question, and Martin gives him a mischievous smile.

“Let’s play a game of rapid-fire truth or dare, with just the truth. Something light, since I think we’ve both worn ourselves out sharing our memoirs.”

Douglas huffs out a laugh.

“As _sir_ commands.”

Martin mock-scowls.

“Don’t call me sir, Douglas, I was being an idiot when I said that.”

“Oh, I find it kind of endearing these days.”

“You’re lucky I find you so charming or I’d have quit long ago.”

“Compared to all the other captains MJN has had, I’m quite pleased you stuck around.”

“MJN is the best thing to happen to me.”

Douglas grins, genuine, and the two continue to trade back and forth, like it was nothing but another word game. Martin reveals his aversion to coconut, his guilty pleasure of romantic comedies, his ongoing struggle with large bodies of water nearly killing him. Douglas tells him about his older daughter, how he wound up loving the musical RENT thanks to his younger daughter, his secret love of sweeter coffee drinks. Martin mentions he knows very little about Doctor Who, and Douglas says the same about Harry Potter. They both agree that Monty Python is hilarious. Martin has a phobia of deep ocean. Douglas has a phobia of horror movies. Martin plays guitar. Douglas collects hotel key cards. Martin has dated more than one gender. So has Douglas.

There is a pause in the flow of the conversation, and the two men take a moment to absorb all that they’ve said. The timer is down to the last few seconds, and Douglas suddenly looks thoughtful, serious. Martin feels himself perk up, instinctively knowing whatever was about to be said was important. Douglas looks him dead in the eye.

“I think…I may be in love with you.”

The timer goes off with a loud jarring buzz, and Martin is left feeling like the floor has been yanked out from under him. Douglas has not lied once this entire time, and he has no reason to say such a thing unless it was absolutely the truth, and the way he is looking at him, just a bit nervously, only cements the realization that _Douglas was in love with him_. Martin is floored, and he knows his eyes are still quite wide with shock, if the concerned look on Douglas’ face is anything to go by. He remembers they’re supposed to be staring into each other’s eyes for the next four minutes and resists the urge to look away, blinking rapidly to try and kick his brain back online. He swallows hard, focusing on Douglas’ eyes, taking in the sincerity, the open vulnerability he never lets show normally, but Douglas has just revealed something that could destroy yet another of the good things he has, and he knows it. Martin calms himself, calms his pounding heart, and tries to turn his expression into something more reassuring.

The four minutes are ticking by, and Martin lets his thoughts wander, considers his own feelings in the face of this unexpected confession. He knows how he feels, knows what he wants, and just like when he saw this experiment first advertised, he decides to seize the opportunity.

The four minutes are up, but Martin doesn’t break eye contact, slowly standing from his seat. Douglas’ brows furrow a bit when he simply stares for a second, before Martin calmly reaches out, grabs Douglas by his shirt and hauls him to his feet. The other man’s eyes are wide as he’s pulled from his seat, and widen even further when Martin drags him close and kisses him soundly.

It is sweet and intense and overwhelming all at once, and both their eyes slide shut, savoring the sensation. Martin’s hands go to Douglas’ hair, and Douglas slides his own to cup around Martin’s jaw. It’s a little awkward with a table between them, which Martin solves by stepping up on to the surface and kneeling there. His hands slide to Douglas’ shoulders, and Douglas slides his to Martin’s waist, and they’re plastered together, like two halves finally joined, oblivious to the rest of the world around them. Only when the need for oxygen becomes a prominent demand, do they break apart, but they don’t pull away, instead resting their foreheads together, eyes still closed, breathing heavily, and grinning like idiots. When they finally look at each other, it is sunrise, the dawn of a new day, the start of something so much bigger than either of them that they can barely comprehend it. It’s a beautiful thing, in the sublime sense, terrifying in it’s power and immensity, awe-inspiring, like flying through a thunderstorm.

Martin finds his voice first, remembering something important, a statement of truth he still needs to share, and leans down to whisper to Douglas.

“Just so you know, I may be in love with you too.”


End file.
